


Now I'm a Villain

by thymelord



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Bondage, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Hybristophilia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Older Man/Younger Man, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23976454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thymelord/pseuds/thymelord
Summary: An asshole at a club kicks Dirk's Protective Big Brother mode into overdrive, and Dave's got a novel way to thank him.(Slight dub-con because of undernegotiated kinks)
Relationships: Dave Strider/Dirk Strider, Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider/Dave Strider
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82





	Now I'm a Villain

**Author's Note:**

> title's from the song of the same name by homestuck's latest album, [beyond canon](https://homestuck.bandcamp.com/album/beyond-canon) which slaps and you should listen to it
> 
> dave is 16 BTW just for the record

This was not supposed to be how any of this happened. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

And yet, here they are.

Dirk Strider fucking hates himself. He hates himself to the very core of his being, to his very atom of existence.

**_Ten hours ago_ **

There was nothing that seemed to indicate today would be different from any other day. It would have been useful, Dirk thinks, if the Texan spring sky had suddenly been overtaken by a storm of lightning or hail, or if an asteroid had crashed in the apartment block courtyard, or if the President had made an emergency broadcast telling everyone it’s the end of days.

But the world never was that fucking efficient, was it?

Dirk strides into the kitchen – forgive the pun, but it really is the most accurate verb – to see Dave sitting at the breakfast bar, legs swinging. He’s sipping a glass of apple juice, a pile of half-eaten pancakes. He’s just wearing a Fluttershy shirt he’s stolen from Dirk, a pair of boxers, and his ubiquitous sunglasses. The occupational hazard of living with your stoic older brother was that lounging around without your pants was acceptable.

And it would be, with a normal older brother. Unfortunately, Dirk’s the biggest fuck-up to ever have the misfortune to be born.

Dave nods slightly. “Sup.”

“Sup,” Dirk returns. He opens the only cupboard that isn’t full of shitty swords, rifles through it until he finds the Pop-Tarts; Dave’s squashed them beneath some tins to fuck with him. Apart from apple juice, Dave’s got a surprisingly non-sweet tooth.

Dirk’s been attracted to his brother for an embarrassing, horrific amount of time, but it’s only since very recently that the dial’s been turned up to eleven. It doesn’t help when Dave slips down from the stool, body moving fluidly towards him. Dirk freezes for a millisecond, then relaxes. Dave doesn’t seem to notice, but then, Dirk doubted he’d know if he had. “You workin’ tonight?” Dave asks.

Dirk nods. “Yeah.”

“The Felt?”

“Yup. You comin’?”

Dave gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, why not.”

“Cool. Now get dressed and get your ass to school.”

**_Three hours ago_ **

It was probably irresponsible to let his underage brother into the club he was DJing at, but Dirk Strider isn’t completely insane. He doesn’t let him have any more than a couple of beers, and keeps an eye on him. He tries to tell himself that he lets Dave come because otherwise he’d go to other clubs, where Dirk couldn’t monitor him and make sure he was okay. He tries to tell himself it’s got nothing to do with the way Dave’s body moves to the rhythm of his music, the way the flickering multicoloured lights play over his platinum-blond hair.

Tonight, it’s even worse than usual. Dave’s wearing an outfit he claims is ironic; a tight black crop top, high-waisted short shorts, fishnet stockings, and black lipstick that Rose had loaned him. He should look ridiculous, but because he’s Dave, he’s incandescent with beauty. Dirk’s not the only person who thinks so; he draws the attention of half the club, and it’s just as well that Dirk’s just about to reach the end of his set, because Dave’s kissing a guy who is way too old for him. He fights his way through the crowd until he’s at him, pushing the guy away with more force than he originally intended.

“Get the fuck away from my brother,” snarls Dirk, and he realises it’s the most emotion he’s shown in front of Dave for years. He doesn’t know if it’s the tank top he’s wearing that shows off his muscles, or the tone in his voice, or just that the guy’s a pussy, but he immediately melts back into the crowd, vanishing in moments.

“Hey, Bro,” says Dave, smirking at him. His lipstick is smeared, which to Dirk’s annoyance makes him look better, not worse; it gives him a smutty edge that puts a jolt through his heart. “What’s up?”

“What the fuck were you doing with that guy?” growls Dirk. “He must have been as old as me!”

“So old as balls, yeah,” drawls Dave.

“I’m bein’ serious. You need to be careful.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You can drop the protective big brother act now.”

“Sorry, kiddo. I can’t turn it off.”

Dave regards him a silence for a moment, before finally saying, “A’ight.”

He turns, and Dirk says, “Where you goin’?”

“Take a piss,” replies Dave without looking around. “That alright with you, or do I need to ask permission?”

It was at times like this that Dirk wishes he doesn’t wear these damn sunglasses, so he could give Dave an old-fashioned glare.

**_Two hours ago_ **

Dave has, predictably, disappeared since he went to the bathroom. Dirk looked for him for a while, before accepting that if Dave doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. He’s not stupid enough to leave, only to stay out of sight for a while to communicate his displeasure.

God, teenagers are the _worst._

He goes to the bar, downs a couple of cosmopolitans. Like a lot of things, they’d started as something ironic before Dirk realises he actually likes them. This place does them a radioactive shade of neon pink, and he feels a lot like Roxy as he holds the glass daintily by the stem. After his third drink, and millionth scan of the crowd, Dirk begins to actually get worried.

There’s only one place he hasn’t looked, and that’s the alleyway out back. When he gets there, fourth cosmo dangling from his fingers, he stops dead.

Dave’s being pressed against the wall by the guy from earlier. His stomach is against the wall, arms held behind his back. “Come on, don’t play coy now. You were all for it before.”

“Let me go!” screams Dave. “I’m going to fucking kill you –”

Dirk flash-steps towards them, grabbing the guy by the shoulder and throwing him to the ground. “No, _I’m_ going to kill you.” He grabs him by the hair, slamming his head against the ground repeatedly until Dave pulls at his arm.

“Bro, stop! Stop it, that’s enough – Dirk, c’mon–”

It’s the use of his name, so rarely uttered by his brother, that jerks him back to sanity. He lets go, letting the guy’s head thump back to the ground. He lies there, unmoving, and Dave puts two fingers on his neck. He looks up at Dirk, and shakes his head.

**_One hour ago_ **

There’s nothing quite like attempted murder to reinforce a brotherly bond.

Dirk had pushed Dave aside, trying to find a pulse himself; after a few panicked moments, he finally found it. It was slow and thready, but it was there, and they’d immediately launched back into the bathroom to clean the blood off the skin. The advantage of a nightclub was that everyone was far too drunk, high or both to notice them, and the advantage of black clothes was that bloodstains were barely noticeable.

“Told ya this outfit was a good idea,” Dave had said wryly.

Now, they’re sitting on the futon, eating their favourite take-out Thai, carefully not speaking to one another.

That is, until Dave looks at him sideways and says, “Hey, try some of this curry.” He holds out the fork, hovering inches from Dirk’s lips. He opens his mouth almost instinctively, taking in the mouthful of chicken curry.

Dirk hums. “Yeah, that is good.”

Dave paws at his food for a moment, then says, “Why’d you do that?”

Dirk turns to him in disbelief. “What?”

“You nearly killed him. You _would_ have killed him.”

“He hurt you,” says Dirk. “He’d’ve hurt you even more. I wanted to make him pay. So I did.”

Although Dave’s expression is as neutral as always, there’s a certain tell in the way he holds his body that Dirk can’t quite decipher. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I never thought – well, I never thought you’d kill for me.”

Dirk swallows. “Of course I would. And I hate that I’d never made it obvious before. I hate that I’ve never said…” Dirk lets out a sharp sigh. “I know it’s not an excuse, but our parents – I never – I’ve never been good at saying… fuck it. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bro.” Dave pauses, then takes off his sunglasses.

He surges forward, kissing him full on the lips.

**_Now_ **

Dirk jerks away, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean like that!”

Dave smiles, and says, “I did.” He kisses him again, climbing into his lap and rocking his hips against him.

Dirk’s primal desires bypass his rational brain entirely; he supposes that’s why they’re called _primal._ Dave clutches at his back, rolling them over so Dirk’s on top of him.

Beneath him, Dave gasps. His hips cant upwards, arms scrabbling for purchase. “ _Please,”_ he whimpers. “ _Please…”_

And Dirk can’t argue with that.

Dave’s eyes stare up at him, as bright as blood. This is why he’d worn sunglasses all his life; not because of his bro, or because of irony, like he tried to claim it was, but because he was ashamed. He was ashamed of his beautiful, scarlet eyes, and Dirk wanted to hunt down and kill everyone who had ever mocked him for them.

Dirk grabs his own glasses and sends them clattering to the corner. He grinds his groin against his, and Dave whimpers, head falling backwards. His leg spasms, sending a fork to the floor, and it seems to snap Dirk out of his trance. He scrambles off him, crowding himself into the corner of the futon with wide amber eyes, throwing off the façade of stoicism entirely.

“We can’t,” Dirk whispers. “We _can’t -”_

Dave tilts his head, regarding him. He’d put on black eyeshadow and eyeliner, even though he hadn’t expected anyone to see it beneath his sunglasses. “Why?” he says. “You want it. I want it -”

“You’re sixteen. You’re my younger brother, who I raised since you were in diapers. I’m over double your age. That enough reasons for you?”

“I want it,” Dave hisses, and he pins Dirk to the futon in a way Dirk would never have allowed had they been strifing. “I want you. You haven’t been fucking, _grooming_ me or anything, I was the one who made the move, I - ”

“And how the fuck are you supposed to know?” says Dirk, voice breaking. “I’ve wanted you… for so long. I’ve fucked you up. I might not have done it subconsciously, but this isn’t normal, and I know I must have caused it - ”

Dave slaps him.

Dirk’s too shocked to respond.

“Does that prove that you’re not the one in control?” says Dave, and that’s the worst thing that he could possibly have said.

A switch flips in Dirk’s brain, a switch he’s been trying to keep unwired, which he _had_ kept unwired until now. He shoves Dave onto his back, straddling his waist and pulling him up by his hair. Dave gasps, eyes wide. Dirk’s sure he was going to say something, but it’s completely slipped from his mind, and he just stares at his brother mutely. A flicker of fear crosses Dave’s face, and Dirk jumps up as though he’s been electrified, running – sorry, _flash stepping –_ to the bathroom, locking it deftly behind him just in time; less than a millisecond later, Dave is pounding on the door.

“Bro? Bro!”

Dirk sits on the close toilet seat, knees together, face in his hands. Dave knocks again, his frantic rhythm betraying his emotions in a way his expression and words never had.

“Bro, please. Open the door.”

When he doesn’t reply, the knocking reaches a crescendo. “Bro, please!” A moment of hesitates for a second. “Dirk.”

And he hates it, he fucking _hates_ how as soon as Dave says his name he’s like putty in his hands. He slowly unlocks the door, opening it a crack, only for Dave to kick it open. It would have hit him in the face, had Dirk’s reflexes not been honed to a knife’s edge. Dace stands in the doorway, the hallway light turning his hair to spun silver. “Hey.”

Dirk doesn’t even try to assume a cool pose, knowing whatever he does will be inadequate. “Sup.”

“Did I spook you?”

Dirk’s fingers tap out a frantic rhythm on his thigh. He does not say anything.

“Dirk,” says Dave, taking a step over the threshold. “I… I want you.”

“Why?”

Dave blinks at him. “Because I do.”

Dirk shakes his head. “You don’t know it, and that checks out in all fields of psychiatry, but I _have…”_ He swallows, not quite knowing how to piece his thoughts together. “I’ve made you this way. I’ve raised you, and my desire for you had corrupted you, twisted you, and -”

Dave surges forward, picking Dirk up and slamming him against the wall. He wouldn’t have managed it had Dirk’s defences been at an all time low. “How can I convince you?” murmurs Dave against his neck.

Dirk’s whole body shudders. He knows, he fucking _knows_ he’s twisted Dave somehow, that he’s fucked him up. It’s too much of a coincidence that Dave would return his feelings, not when Dirk’s over twice his age and Dirk’s been attracted to him during his formative years. He’d never made it obvious, but kids were perceptive, and Dirk’s sure his corruption has somehow entered Dave via osmosis.

“I can’t…”

“Shut the fuck up.” There’s a sudden anger in Dave’s voice, and for a split second he sounds exactly like their father. Dave had never had the misfortune to meet him, which makes it even more unnerving. “What the fuck do I have to say to make you believe me?”

Dirk’s shaking, head still directed towards the floor.

“I want you to fuck me,” says Dave. “I _need you.”_

Dirk raises his head. His eyes meet Dave’s. “Why don’t you hate me?” Dirk finally asks.

Dave blinks at him in genuine surprise. “Why would I?”

“Because… because I’ve wanted you for years, even though you’re my little brother, my ward. Because I nearly killed someone. Because I _would_ have killed him, if it hadn’t been for you.”

The corner of Dave’s lip quirks upwards. “Why the fuck would I hate you because of that? That just makes me love you more.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“But it does. What are you going to do about it?”

Dirk grinds his teeth together, and the sound is like a whip-crack in the silence. “It’s my—“

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ tell me it’s your fault. You’ve never done anything to make me think you’re attracted to me. Until today I was convinced you’d despise me if you ever knew I wanted to jump you, yet I’ve wanted to for years.”

“It’s your subconscious, it’s not --”

“Oh, shut the fuck _up!”_ Dave grabs him by the front of his shirt again, slamming him up against the wall. “Stop. Just _stop._ ” He loosens his grip, one hand sliding to the back of Dirk’s neck. “Stop fucking _thinking._ At least, stop thinking with anything except from your hindbrain.”

“My what?” Dirk croaks.

“Jesus, did you _go_ to school? Hindbrain. Controls the primal instincts and shit. Left over from when we were lizards.” Dirk’s nonplussment must be evident on his face, because Dave rolls his eyes. He presses his lips against the side of Dirk’s neck, trailing up to his ear. “Give in.” His hips nudge against him, and Dirk suddenly spins them around, crushing Dave against the wall. He peels off Dave’s stupidly tight crop top and shorts, hand running down his torso. He doesn’t really have any visibly defined muscles, but his stomach is rock fucking hard. His strength isn’t from vanity exercises designed to enhance his muscles, it’s real.

“You want me?” growls Dirk. “Fine.” He lifts him up, bridal-style, and then throws him violently down on his bed very un-bridal style. Dave’s legs fall open, revealing the bulge in his boxers. Dirk’s finger trails around the top of his stocking, considering. “I think I’ll leave these on.”

Dave makes an incoherent noise. Dirk reaches for him, kissing him deeply. He reciprocates immediately, shifting closer. 

Suddenly, Dirk pulls away and pushes him onto his stomach, wrenching his arms behind his back. Dave whines, head falling back a little. “You’re mine,” Dirk growls into his ear, and he feels Dave shudder. “You’ve broken a dam within me, Dave. And I don’t think I’m going to be able to rebuild it.”

“That’s fine,” whispers Dave.

“Oh, my darling. Don’t say that when you don’t understand what it means.”

“I _do_ know what it means – ”

“No,” says Dirk, eyes flashing. “You really don’t.” He pushes Dave’s arms above his head, snapping handcuffs around his wrists. “You have no idea what I’m really like. There’s a darkness in me I’ve been trying to keep a rein on my whole life. Now you’ve made me let it go.” He kicks Dave’s legs apart, a lubed finger pressing into him. Dave whines, hips bucking against the mattress.

“So do it,” says Dave. “Do whatever you want to me.”

Dirk swallows, and slaps Dave’s buttock as hard as he can. Dave gasps, handcuff chains clinking. He turns his head to look at him, blond hair flopping over his eye, lips parting and flushed. Dirk lets out a shivering breath, and pushes into him. He’s used enough lube for it not to chafe but not enough for it to hurt.

Dave lets out a cry and clenches his fists. Dirk’s lips skim the side of his neck. “How about now?”

“It hurts,” whispers Dave.

“Good.” Dirk slams into him, and Dave screams, the noise tapering off to a moan that’s somewhere between pained and aroused. Dirk’s hand closes around his throat, and presses hard. Dave makes a choked sound, and Dirk responds by pounding into him as hard as he can, ignoring the burn in his muscles.

“Dirk!” he gasps when his throat is released. “ _Dirk - ”_ He’s sobbing, and that’s what pushes Dirk over the edge. He comes with a shout, gripping Dave’s hips like a vice. He pulls out, unlocking the cuffs. Dave turns over, panting, and Dirk notes with surprise that he’s almost limp, white translucent liquid dripping from the tip.

“You came?” asks Dirk hoarsely.

Dave’s smile is slow, sinuous. “I sure did. Nothing gets me off like my big bro treating me like a fuck doll.” He lowers his eyes, batting his lashes. “Especially when he’s nearly killed someone to defend me.” He leans forward, placing a chaste kiss on Dirk’s lips.

“You’re so fucked up,” says Dirk affectionately.

“Thank you.”


End file.
